


True Affection

by uro_boros



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 10:37:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7614778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uro_boros/pseuds/uro_boros
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Dude,” Lance looks sideways at Hunk. “Is Keith making fun of me?”</p><p>Hunk is patient and a good friend. He’s probably, he reflects, – and this isn’t the first time he’s had this particular, sad thought – the best friend Lance has ever had.</p>
            </blockquote>





	True Affection

“Dude,” Lance looks sideways at Hunk. “Is Keith making fun of me?”

Hunk is patient and a good friend. He’s probably, he reflects, – and this isn’t the first time he’s had this particular, sad thought – the best friend Lance has ever had. That’s why he doesn’t tell Lance he’s stupid, even though he is. It’s with longsuffering patience that he instead responds, “No, man, I don’t know what his problem is.”

Hunk knows exactly what Keith’s problem is. Which is also a problem. Because he doesn’t want to know what Keith’s problem is, because eventually, Lance is going to figure it out too and it will either mess up all of the team bonding they’ve established – which meant extra training and Shiro looking vastly disappointed in all of them – or worse:

Lance will like it.

Lance will really like it.

Lance will even think it’s the best thing in the world, because, again, Lance is willfully stupid ninety percent of the time.

“Right,” says Lance. “So he’s just a jerk.”

Hunk shrugs.

It’s better than the alternative.

\--

From an outsider’s perspective, Team Voltron is a mess.

From an insider’s perspective, Team Voltron is an even bigger mess.

Hunk isn’t sure how it’s possible, but thinks that it’s probably, again, ninety percent Lance’s fault. He learned early on in the Garrison that most bad things traced back to Lance – from failed flight sims to girls he’d never spoken to glaring at him.

That’s not to say he doesn’t love Lance, because Hunk does -- Lance is good-hearted and well-meaning and so homesick that it makes him sick at times. But, Lance is also truly awful.

Exhibit A: Lance in the wild.

Lance manages to flirt his way through seven planets in a two-day time span. It’s annoying, yes, and half of the species he flirts with cause carbon-degradation upon skin-to-skin contact when he touches them (and Lance, because he’s Lance, speaks equally as much with his hands as he does with his mouth, which is to say, a lot). That leaves him with a bad rash that Hunk dutifully applies ointment to once a day because no one else would.

Actually, maybe Shiro would, but Lance doesn’t ask him, he asks Hunk, because again, Lance is awful.

He’s in the middle of smearing it across Lance’s back and shoulders when Keith walks in.

This is how he knows the universe is out to get him.

“What,” says Keith, raspy and tightly, and Hunk wants to know, really know, how he’s the only one who’s figured this out yet. “What’s this?”

“Bonding moment,” answers Lance cheekily. He has no survival instincts. This is why he needs Hunk.

The thing is, Hunk can’t fault either of them, not really. Keith’s practically feral and Lance is, well, Lance, and they’re both nineteen and nineteen is a crap age all around (says Hunk, who turned twenty three planets ago).

It’s just that he wishes that they would pick any place but here to do this, and anyone but each other to do it with. Hunk’s an innocent bystander. He deserves better.

Keith’s nostrils flair once before he walks out.

“Man,” says Lance loudly, “am I glad I at least have you here, buddy.”

Hunk forgoes saying the same.

\--

He can’t really be mad at Lance.

He knows that some of Lance’s obliviousness is just that: obliviousness. He was in a suspended coma when everyone else was subjected to Keith hovering anxiously around his cryopod, looking unsure and lost and angry all at once.

He also knows that Lance’s continued lack of awareness is more play than reality. In some ways, he’s giving Keith an out.

Of course, Keith never takes it, because he never realizes it’s there – because Keith hasn’t realized that it’s there yet. And Lance, being Lance, sees a loose thread and starts to pull.

That means everything’s going to come undone one day. Hunk isn’t sure he knows enough to be able to put it back together.

\--

At breakfast the next morning, Lance steals his food. This is a leftover habit from the Garrison, that Hunk allows because he sort of knows it’s more about establishing familiar patterns than anything else.

Keith’s eyes track the movements of Lance’s hands, his own spoon still and gripped in a fist more suited for his bayard than for his spoon.

It is, frankly, ridiculous.

Hunk, who is a good and decent person, hides his bowl with his arm the next time Lance goes to steal from it. Keith, who’s mostly alright as a person (which isn’t his fault, so much as he was raised by wolves and that leaves necessary social skills severely lacking), looks suitably appeased.

Lance isn’t appeased at all. “Dude, what the heck?” he says, overdramatically throwing himself into Hunk’s space.

It ends with him half in and half out of Hunk’s lap and Keith doing the weird nostril flair again before there’s an audible cracking noise as Keith’s cup, previously held in one hand, breaks along a hairline fault.

“I’m going to go train,” Keith announces darkly, before doing just that. His plate is untouched.  
Even Lance isn’t oblivious enough to miss that. He slinks out of Hunk’s lap and then further, out of the room with a particularly guilty air.

Hunk meets Pidge’s gaze across the table.

Pidge responds with a shrug and shovels more food into their mouth.

Hunk sighs, and isn’t sure how this is going to get fixed.

He’s thinking about the cup, actually, which is made out of a weird Altean ceramic. It’s probably ruined, but it feels rude to the princess to leave it as such, so Hunk pockets it on his way out of the dining hall and back to his room.

He’s dwelling on that, and other things, when he walks by them.

They’re whispering, so Hunk can’t make out the words being passed between them, but Lance’s tall, skinny frame is loosely-caging Keith’s. Their heads are bowed together; Lance’s face, expression usually animated, is passive and gentle.

His room is past them. He ducks down a side hallway instead.

Hunk does give them one last look before he leaves, and catches Keith pushing up on his toes to bridge the scant distance between their mouths.

\--

The next day, Shiro claps Hunk on the shoulder in passing.

“I’m proud of you,” he says, “you handled a difficult situation well. Never forget that you’re at the heart of this team, Hunk. You help us all stand together.”

It should be inspirational. Hunk feels the usual warming in his chest that accompanies Shiro’s praise – he knows, for a fact, that it’s a thing, because he’s seen all of the paladins stare up at Shiro in awe, like flowers turning their faces to catch the sun.

But: “You knew?” he says instead. “You knew that Keith liked Lance and you let me be the one to handle it?”

Shiro folds his arms, cocking his head. “I had a suspicion,” he says, “but it wasn’t my place to interfere.”

It’s a totally reasonable explanation. It’s totally a lie.

“You just didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire,” Hunk accuses, “because it’s Keith and Lance.” Unsure if his emphasis is enough, he chops with his hands, adding: “Together.”

“Well, I was the one who kept training with Keith while he was frustrated.” Shiro has the decency to look a tad guilty.

“You know it’s going to be worse now, right.”

The minutely horrified widening of Shiro’s eyes goes a little to making Hunk feel better, at least.


End file.
